


(three points) in your favour

by Mononoke



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: (both off-screen), Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-12
Updated: 2011-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mononoke/pseuds/Mononoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, you’re it now. The resident Grimm. Got a plan?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	(three points) in your favour

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to and including 1x02. Intended as pre-slash but can be read as gen.
> 
> This will likely be rendered pointless once the third episode goes to air, but what can I say. I was inspired.
> 
> Do we have an official spelling for Nick's last name yet? Because I'm not sure which is correct.

He doesn’t hear from Nick for a few days after the hospital incident. That’s how he’s referring to it in his head. Clusterfuck has a nicer ring to it, seems more appropriate; incident sounds like something PR would come up with, but it distances him from the event. Sounds friendlier.

As friendly as ripping a man’s arm off can be, anyway.

So. No calls interrupting him in the middle of work, no one knocking on his door during his Pilates. It’s almost like he never met the Grimm.

Something about the absence picks at his instincts, though, sets him full of energy he can do nothing with. Eddie knows enough by now to trust that those feelings have meaning. He starts keeping an eye on the obituaries.

He spots the notice not long after.

There are no names mentioned save Marie’s, no details of a funeral. Maybe Nick’s finally learning the virtues of being cautious.

Eddie snorts. Yeah, right. It’s more likely he’s just got no family left to inform.

Still. He’s willing to bet that there are more than a few individuals – his kind or otherwise – interested in making a pilgrimage to the Grimm’s grave. Not many of them left, now: it’s a cause to celebrate.

His phone is in his hand before he can think twice.

The number’s still stored from when Nick last called. It’s one of the few entries in his call history. He presses the dial button and listens as it rings out.

“You’ve reached Nick Burkhardt. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

Eddie opens his mouth to speak but hangs up instead.

The phone goes back on the desk and Eddie takes in a few deep breaths, closes his eyes and says, “You don’t owe him anything.”

 

***

 

Since last time he’s learned to keep his phone on silent while he works. He sits down in the early hours of the afternoon and it’s only when it’s nearly too dark to see that he realises so much time has passed. His body aches with the urge to move, to run; he settles for a few quick stretches then heads to the kitchen.

By the time Eddie thinks to check his phone he’s long since missed the call. That there’s a message waiting for him is a surprise.

“It’s Nick.” His voice is hurried, pitched low. “That thing you went overboard with? You might want to stay indoors for a little while.”

The abruptness of it makes Eddie tense. His instincts buzz, already sitting just beneath the surface of his skin, and he rushes to the TV. He starts flipping through channels, watches every news report he can find, expecting to see an artist’s rendering of his face. It never comes.

 

***

 

It’s almost seven thirty when he hears the knock at his door. Eddie knows who it is, could’ve guessed even if he hadn’t recognised the scent as it got closer and closer.

Nick glances up when Eddie opens the door. He looks tired, skin paler than usual. There’s a brown paper bag in his hands.

“You don’t look surprised,” Nick says by way of greeting.

Eddie taps his nose. “Kinda ruins the fun.”

Nick half-smiles at that. He stares at Eddie for a moment, like he’s waiting for something, but before Eddie can ask what he wants Nick ducks through the gap between door and frame, and heads for the kitchen.

Eddie can only close the door and follow him.

Nick’s perched by the counter near the fridge. His eyes follow Eddie as he enters the room. The attention has his fingers itching to do something.

“Want some coffee? You better drink it this time if you say yes. Stuff’s not cheap, y’know.”

“Alright.”

Eddie sets to making them a mug each. When he turns to hand Nick his he finds Nick has barely moved. The paper bag sits on the counter, easily within reach.

Eddie nods his head towards it. “Something you need me to look at?”

“What?” Nick follows his gaze to the bag. “Oh. No, not exactly.” He sets his mug on the counter, picks up the bag, and hands it to Eddie. “Repayment.”

Eddie peers inside. “Bagels?”

“Yeah,” Nick says. He squirms a little. “I owe you three, remember?”

“You’re paying me back in _bagels_?”

“It’s a start! What else could I buy a reformed Blutbad?”

“Dude, this is worth, like, half a point, at most.”

“Fine,” Nick huffs. “I’ll figure something else out for the rest.”

Eddie pulls the plastic bag out, tears it open and sniffs. “How’d you know what kind I get?”

Nick crosses his arms over his chest. “I saw the brand the last time I was here.”

Eddie shakes his head. A cop’s attention to detail and Grimm senses? He’ll be one hell of a guy to deal with if he survives. He doesn’t bother to ask Nick if he wants breakfast, just grabs two bagels and starts slicing.

“I never really thanked you for guarding Marie.”

He stills, and doesn’t answer until he’s placed Nick’s plate on the kitchen island, just within grabbing distance. “Sorry for your loss.”

“The man whose arm you tore off,” Nick says slowly in response, and Eddie tries not to flinch at the sudden nature of the question, “he was going to hurt her?”

“Yeah.”

Nick’s eyes are somewhere far-off as he nods. “Okay.”

Eddie, who’s been slouching against the counter opposite, finds his attention piqued. “I don’t mean to assume, but shouldn’t you not be okay with that? Being a cop and all?”

“I’m not turning you in,” Nick says, frowning.

“Hey, great news for me, but it doesn’t answer my question.”

Nick picks up his mug, turning it in his hands for a few moments, and in that time the silence is almost too much. “You’re the only person who can help me with all this. I need you.”

Eddie tries to ignore the frisson that rolls over him on hearing those words. He takes a deep breath and waits for his skin to stop tingling. “If this is about vengeance – fine, I get that. But don’t drag me into it. Find someone else.”

“I already said I trust you.”

The urge to thump his head against the island is difficult for Eddie to resist.

“What? What’s wrong with that?” Nick gestures with his mug and nearly sends the contents to the floor.

Eddie glares at him. “I could kill you. I could’ve killed _her_.” He watches Nick’s eyes grow dark and wonders what the Grimm is seeing. “There’s a reason our kinds don’t mix.”

“Why do you keep letting me in, then? Why keep talking to me?”

Eddie slumps back against the counter. The day’s barely begun and already he’s exhausted. “Masochism? Morbid curiosity?”

Nick shakes his head, his face set hard. “I don’t believe that.”

Eddie doesn’t, either. If he needs to have an excuse, though – and someday he will, he’s sure of that – it’s going to have to do.

The silence stretches. Eddie picks at his bagel and watches Nick sip from his mug. It’s all strangely domestic, and having someone in his house is not entirely unwelcome, even after so many years of solitude. He’s used to Nick being in his kitchen, being in his space, and the sense of familiarity chills him. He’s let the Grimm burrow into his life without even realising it. His family really would disown him.

It’s definitely too much now, the silence. Eddie’s foot bounces against the floor, his fingers yearn to tap, to scratch. Talking’s always been his way of defusing tension, so talk is what he does.

“So, you’re it now. The resident Grimm. Got a plan?”

Nick glances at the floor before looking back to him. “She told me to hunt down the bad ones.”

Eddie blinks. “That’s not _vague_ at all.”

“Look,” Nick says, setting his mug down as he straightens up, “I don’t plan on going around killing innocents. But if someone breaks the law, or tries to hurt me or the people I care about, that’s something I have to deal with.

“If you think you’re in danger and you want out, okay. But I trust you, and I could really use your help.”

Nick’s gaze is so intense that Eddie has to break eye contact after moments, retreating to stare at the relative safety of the island. So much for defusing tension; Eddie wasn’t the only one using the quiet to come to a conclusion. It’s almost unbearable simply being in the room. Nick’s determination is all but tangible, a pressure in the air crowding around him. The words have set something loose in his chest: the thrill of a hunt to come, the warmth of having something constant in his world. The line he’s grown up understanding, respecting, hiding away from, is right before his feet, and now he has the chance to step right over it.

“We could do some good, Eddie,” Nick says. His name sounds at home, rolling off Nick’s tongue like that; the urge to see if it’s laced with silver is pure animal and he tamps down on the desire before he can act on it. The words are in his head, though, and the look on Nick’s face is one he can’t deny.

“I don’t know why I keep letting you talk me into things,” Eddie says, as much to himself as to Nick.

“You want more chances to correct me,” Nick says, stepping closer to the island. He’s smiling when Eddie looks at him, and the weight of the last however many days already seems to be lifting from him.

“This doesn’t mean running into danger on purpose,” Eddie warns.

“Of course not.”

“Or growing some stupid hero complex that gets us killed.”

“Well …”

“And definitely no more early morning visits.”

Nick just grins at him, and clasps his shoulder.

Eddie sighs, and pours more coffee. “You still owe me two and a half.”


End file.
